"When we go to Africa, will we have lunch there ?" asked Timothy.

At only just four years old, Timothy seemed to be a bit unsure of our plans. Jennifer at 6 1/2 and Peter at 8 1/2 were more certain of what was to come, but even Marion and I were still gradually finding out more and more details as months of planning went by, before setting off into unknown Africa.

But why were we going anyway ? We were having a break between a computer programming past and a possible agricultural future. Such a future would mean that an opportunity like this would never occur again. We just had to set off into the unknown now, or never. And we wanted to do it now.

One major 'detail' was the inclusion of Bo Masters in our party. As a veteran of climbing in midsummer sun on the hot rocks of the Cuillins, canoeing in the snow down the River Teifi and capsizing in the Windrush, I guessed that Africa might well be an attraction to her. Yes, she replied to my letter, she would love to come with us to get lost in the Sahara Desert. It would at least be a change from her home in Stanton Fitzwarren. And she knew the children well. "If it wasn't for the children I wouldn't be coming," she told us. So that was a welcome reassurance for us all.

So that made six of us.

Now we wanted a vehicle to travel in. All sorts of ideas finally produced a 20 year old American Army Dodge ambulance. Why not a Landrover or similar like everyone else ? More sturdy and easier to maintain, said Ron Wilson, a mechanic who had answered one of our advertisements for help. He had one himself, and at one stage was keen to join us with his family. This did not happen, but he did give us a great amount of essential and useful help with maintenance and supply of spare parts. Six new tyres were supplied for us at cost price by Goodyear, a nice gesture from my previous employer. But we were not successful in getting sponsorship for anything else by anyone. Much interior conversion was necessary, particularly the provision of six seats instead of the original two, and stripping out the beds. We would be camping in tents. We named the vehicle 'Africa Explorer', and painted it in 'Sahara Dust'. Perhaps the most valuable acquisition was the official Dodge M43 maintenance handbook from an American army base near Warrington. Full of useful information. How about this ?...'Destruction of vehicle to prevent enemy use:.. Selection of the method... requires imagination and resourcefulness...1. Destruction by burning. a)Remove fire extinguishers...c)Puncture fuel tank, collecting gasoline for use as in f. below...f)Pour gasoline and oil in and over the entire vehicle, ignite and take cover...3. Destruction by gunfire. Destroy the vehicle...using artillery, machine guns, rifle grenades or anti-tank rockets...'

We amassed a wealth of information and detailed route plans and maps from one Colonel Francis and his Worldwide Travel Service. He was reputed to have travelled from Nigeria to England on horseback. He was able to save us a great deal of waste of time and money by arranging for all our visas for many countries to be collected for us in London.

We diligently studied the regulations for crossing the Sahara Desert laid down by the Algerian government, and duly equipped ourselves with distress flares, sand ladders, shovel, compass and white sheet. And a dozen metal jerricans for petrol and six polythene ones for water. And a petrol stove, a pressure cooker and a Primus.

Bo put together boxes of medical supplies from her professional hospital contacts to cope with all most likely requirements, and we underwent many inoculations for tropical unpleasantnesses.

After 12 months 'thinking' time, 9 months genuine planning time (dating from first meeting Col. Francis in a Birmingham bar), selling the house, and a last month of full-time preparations, we left home in Highley for a Sunday afternoon drive on September 24, 1972. A drive that would be over 10,000 miles long.

Having made this significant step of abandoning our home, we then allowed ourselves six days breathing space with three nights at Monmouth and three at Bournemouth with two sets of grandparents. Bo joined us at Bournemouth, and 8.15am on Sept. 30 saw us driving off on our way to Southampton docks.

Sept. 30.

Southampton, and the start of the writing of four diaries.

As we drove up the ramp into the bows of the 'Viking I' ferry, we could relax from thinking of all the things we might have left behind. We watched as the last irretrievable link between ship and shore was let go and the few inches of water separating us from England began expanding into miles. It was a good day to leave: grey skies with a typical dull, cold breeze until clear of the coast, then welcome sunshine as we headed for the South.

I bought 200 Gauloises and half a bottle of gin as presents for future unforeseen occasions. Peter's diary started with a plan of the ship, and "before we got to the Isle of White we saw a hovercraft and a boat that was on skis. Daddy said it was a hydrofoil. Later on we saw a Naval Craft flying the Blue Ensign." Then a drawing of the flag. "Our ship was wearing the Norwegian Flag." And another picture.

Cherbourg at 3.30 was definitely not England. Even the children spoke French, as Peter remarked. Drove on South to Baubigny to find a camp site among sand dunes scantily clad with marram grass, and the children enjoyed the rather bleak deserted beach stretching for miles in both directions; but later on complained of sand in bedding -- a bad outlook for the future ? We bought milk at the farm of the local 'maire' and filled up with 'eau de ville'; a new municipal water supply, of which, as mayor, he was rather proud. Bo had a driving lesson on the way to the farm, the first time she had driven the 'Explorer'.

The sun slipped down into a band of mist, and lighthouses were visible north and south but no other light could be seen.

October 1. Sunday.

Up at 6.45 in the cold clear sunrise. Condensation inside tents -- use flysheets in future. Left at 9.20, after more warming sand-running exercise.

Very rural Normandy countryside. Small fields mostly grass, or maize about six feet tall, and some kale. Few sheep but many cattle, the attractive white mottled and spotted with chocolate 'vaches normandes'. The French prefer beef to mutton.

Bo drove us to Mont Saint Michel for Peter to show us round; he had been here four years before so knew all about it. Lunch on arrival at one o'clock on the rocks beside estuarial mud. Hot sun and no wind. Too many people to see the town itself in comfort but we did do a circuit of the walls and bits of the steep main streets. Restricted buying from all the tourist traps to a few postcards at 0.6 francs and ice creams at 1fr each (9p).

At 4.30 after a further one hour's driving we stopped to camp in a bulldozed wood near Laval (the Bois de Misedon), with new bracken fronds growing through in the bulldozer's wake. We cooked fresh neck of lamb. (We had earlier been pleased to find shops open on Sunday.) Last night's milk was OK for semolina but not for much else.

We started naming all our campsites: this is 'The Bulldozed Wood'. 132 miles travelled today. Peter's diary contains a picture of Mont St. Michel by night.

Oct 2.

Left at 9.30. Shopping stop at Le Lion d'Angers for food and nuts and bolts. Lunch beside the River Loire near Angers. The children played around in flat bottomed boats and a horse was eating the hedge behind us. Wrote postcards. Traffic jam on Saumur bridge (resurfacing work). Camped at 5pm in a 'reserve de chasse' on a Poitiers 'bypass'. Timothy (after driving down a rough track looking for a camp site): "Can we get to Africa this way ?"

French picnic lunch: Pate, long crisp bread., tomatoes and vin du pays. The pattern for most French lunches. Fields of pumpkins and many goats.

Reading in vehicle in evening by the light of the useful fluorescent 'Blaxlite'.

This camp site was named 'Poplar Marsh'. 141 miles in the day.

"In France cars like skidding round corners and making a noise. They don't like stopping when somebody is crossing the Zebra crossings, which are yellow," according to Peter.

Oct 3.

To 'The Walnut Tree', a pleasant spot by a friendly farm near Les Eyzies. All pleased at the prospect of two days' rest. Long day's driving on good roads to Angouleme, then winding through much more interesting wooded countryside to Perigueux. Here the cathedral was a great disappointment due to roof and tower being closed; we had made a point of going to visit it for old times' sake (Marion and I had both, on different occasions, enjoyed being allowed to wander around up the tower and all over the roof). The weather was very hot as well. Lunch was in a warm wood among Scots pines. Evening meal in a restaurant as a special occasion. Ten francs each for five of us with a 'couvert' for Timothy (for three francs) -- and we did give him some food ! Children delighted not to be in bed until 9 o'clock. Grasshoppers continuous.

The farmer's wife fascinated with Peter's 'cheveux rouge' and the contrasting blond, brune and rouge of the three children.

Oct 4.

A morning of schoolwork and vehicle maintenance. Later to the Les Eyzies Neanderthal museum and the cave of Font de Gaume high up on the side of a cliff; but Jennifer bored by the French guide's explanations of all the cave paintings: "Voici un bison...voici un autre bison." So afterwards we went on to the 'Gorge d'Enfer', an open-air live animal park with real bison, deer, wild boar, wild horses, onnegar (donkey horse), sheep and goats; and rock shelters, lake and pools of trout -- and no one there except us. A much more successful visit.

Enthusiasm for more school work on return to camp. A star awarding system of Marion's seemed to have worked well. But this extra work led to tired tears from Jennifer; soon dispelled by picking blackberries for supper and watching cows being milked. Her diary starts today with a picture of this, and "today we are capming by a farm and Mummy is going to ask the farmer if we can watch him milck the cows." The drawing shows two large cows and a very small farmer. Peter has drawn the milking machinery and pail, and also has drawings of two of the cave paintings.

Oct 5.

A morning walk to look for a cave (La Micoque). It turned out to be an archaeological dig surrounded by impenetrable fences, but our search for it ranged through woods, scrub and a walnut grove in the morning sunshine and autumn colours. Lizards, fossils, beetles, walnuts and blackberries were found, and grasshoppers everywhere. Back in camp we all had baths in the paddling pool after lunch 'at home'.

Our farm had two large barns where tobacco was drying, hanging upside down. It was well ventilated by day and shut up at night, and there were remains of a wood fire on the earth floor.

A rare day of NO travelling.

Oct 6.

Eager to travel on again after our rest.

A short stop in Les Eyzies, then on to cross the Dordogne at Coux and the Lot at Villeneuve, all through interesting hilly wooded limestone country. Another perfect autumn morning of sun and colours. We saw a cow having its hoof attended to while held in a wooden frame crush outside a smithy in a village street.

We failed to buy paraffin in Agen. "We think parrafin is difficult to get in france," wrote Peter (and always difficult to spell). "We had lunch in a feild of cows (charolais). We nearly run over a black snake. Slept near Pau. Daddy said we might be able to see the Pyrennees from where we slept but we couldn't. I touched an electricuted fence. We saw a lorry on its side. I saw 70 buses in france." Followed by drawings of the lorry and the snake.

This campsite we named 'the Concrete Block', a waste of bramble bushes and concrete bases, presumably an ex-army camp or similar. Watched lightning towards the Pyrenees, now only 30 miles away. More grasshoppers. 153 miles today.

Oct 7. Saturday.

Pyrenean crossing.

Through Pau (where we did succeed in buying paraffin), up the Vallee d'Ossau ('most beautiful in Pyrenees' according to our information from the RAC), and over the Col du Pourtalet. Waved through by French customs; passports and green card checked by Spanish. Lovely beech tree colours on way up. Two stops for photos: cows and Pyrenean mountain dogs. The pass is at 1792 metres (about 6000ft). Engine kept cool. Light rain on way up.

We cashed travellers cheques in a shop on the pass (1200 pesetas to 10 dollars). Noticeable changes on entry into Spain: shops with strings of onions outside; complete lack of trees in spite of trees almost to the top on French side; more austere landscape. Lunch (without grasshoppers !) a little way into Spain. Followed by a walk (with haverseat) up about 1000ft to a spur with good views. Jennifer nearly failed several times; Peter walked well despite some protests. Gentian and crocus flowering, five sorts of thistle, monkshood plants and a Christmas rose-like hellebore. Also a sheep and newborn lamb separated from their flock of which there were 3 or 4, each with its shepherd in attendance. On through Sallent de Gallego (and a second passport check) and filled up with petrol --'super' at the same price as French 'essence'. Marion managed to buy 'pan' and pears. "We are all having difficulty talking Spanish" (Peter).

Camped in a tiny mountain meadow on a shelf above the Gallego gorge (with more grasshoppers).

Noticed three broken wheel studs on one rear wheel.

Oct 8.

Breakfast with the sun tingeing the tops of rocky peaks across the valley. We wished it was shining on us. It later became a really hot day.

First stop at Biescas to change the wheel with the broken studs, and fill up with 'gasolina normale'. There were two wild boars in a pen at the garage Through Sabinanigo a large town with factories, and over the barren mountains of Aragon up to a pass of 4200ft., and leaving it down a magnificent gorge with the road in several tunnels. In more detail, from Peter: "Nine tunnels you don't have to turn your lights on for and three that you do have to turn your lights on for". And a picture of a road through a tunnel. Stopped to photograph a sizeable torrent cascading from a cleft; inside could be seen a waterfall from an underground stream. Lunch at the foot of the hills, after which most of us sat in the shade wearing sunglasses.

Then Huesca, a larger town, and easier roads to Zaragoza, a vast town in the middle of a vast plain. No stop here except for numerous traffic lights. Impressions of a vast dirty-looking cathedral, dusty bumpy roadworks and deviations, policemen in force, squares with flowers and fountains, trams, trolleybuses and crowds of people. Twenty miles later, after a long industrial belt, we camped, still on the plain, by a well by an empty sheepfold, which mysteriously filled with sheep during the night. A 5.30pm stop. Warm evening with flying insects. 'Spanish Well' camp site. 120 miles in the day.

Oct 9.

A rather surprised shepherd, with transistor radio and dog, watched us depart. (We thought we heard something about Uganda on his news).

Longest travelling day so far. Over the high tableland at a height of about 3000ft. with an interesting stop at Daroca, a walled old town of typical narrow streets and mule traffic. Shopping but not much time to explore. Then 30 miles of straight roads to Teruel, the largest town en route. But not an exciting route. "Timothy kept on asking 'Is it lunchtime yet?' Some of us got cross," comments Peter. Then started the long descent to the coast and a complete change of scenery. Aloes, prickly pear and bamboo appeared as weeds, palm trees, fields of melons, artichokes, maize and many other warmth-loving plants appreciating the Mediterranean climate. Grapes being harvested, and almonds. Olives and holm oak abounding. Oranges and lemons. Fields of crocus being picked (for saffron ?). "Soon we were seeing who was the first to see the sea. .. We camped near a pebbly beach. Daddy said it was the dullest beach on the Medaterainin." Yes, Valencia a few miles to the right and a steelworks a few miles to the left and a grey beach and a grey sea in between. The Mediterranean, but only just.

We were visited by two policemen demanding passports -- just out of curiosity. Even on this dull beach there was a ribbon of holiday shacks and bungalows -- all empty. Day's mileage 169.

Oct 10.

A day of mistakes. "Mummy said that we were going to camp by a nice sandy beach today and we were all pleased at this." Decided to find a camp site south of Valencia on more interesting coastline. Avoided sites before Denia and carried on to Javea, 'an old fishing port' according to the RAC, and off the very busy main road, but now a newly developed resort. No chance of camping on our own and the only official site closed. Had lunch on the rocks, then on to 'coastline with sandy bays'. Saw no sandy bays. Off the main road again to Calpe. Campsite by the sea closed for season today. Another site was very expensive. All hot and rather cross. So back to the beach for a refreshing swim. Decided the best hope of camping was inland from the disappointment of the over-developed coast. Eventually we found, up a rough road, an elevated pine scrub and olive platform sprinkled with not too many villas, well above the sea and below a range of rocky hills. A pleasant spot at last.

We discovered the loss of our pressure cooker gauge, but used an extension bar from the socket spanner set instead, an arrangement that lasted for the next six months with complete success. Finally enjoyed a boiled chicken. Visited this evening, not by the police, but by the nearest resident who wished us goodnight in perfect English. We gathered from him that this road was made to encourage the spread of even more villas, and that the coast is less populated south of Alicante. So we hoped so, to dispel our grievances with the Costa Blanca.

Oct 11.

A morning of schoolwork, washing and vehicle maintenance. Timothy did his first pages of reading. Bo announced that she did not mind washing, thus making herself expedition washer in chief. Marion delighted. Filled water cans at the nearest villa and had another interesting conversation with the owner, a Dutchman and mineral prospector working in Rhodesia ('a great country'), and we heard of the truce in the conflict between Uganda and Tanzania.

We set off again at 12.30 and stopped for an interesting lunch in a 'serveceria', a self-service restaurant in the nearest town, Callosa: a selection of fishy things, slices of meat and cheese, a potato salad, ices and coffee. 440 pesetas for the six of us, about 40p each. The streets were decorated with flags, and houses with bamboos for a festival. Before lunch we watched 'school sports' in the square -- a mad jumble of spectators and contestants with police trying to keep order and a shrill piper and drummer playing vigorously during each event. Events included a three-legged race for girls, and for boys a wheelbarrow race and a slow cigarette smoking race "while as in england," comments Peter," boys are not allowed to smoke cigarettes." He also has a whole page of pictures of the lunch dishes.

Then down to the coast at Benidorm and on along another busy road through Alicante (with attractive views of the harbour), passing salt pans and piles of salt near Santa Pola. "In spain there are lots more cars of british make like Landrovers Austins and Fords. Spanish lorries have blue sunshades over their windscreens. Daddy wants one." To Guardamar where we found a little road leading to sand dunes to camp on by the sea. Beach incredibly littered, deserted and uninviting. We were soon followed down the road by two 'guardia civil' on motorcycles, full of curiosity but not wanting passports, who only left us after accepting a mug of wine each. All very 'civil'. They had no objection to our camping, but later two more came to advise us to lock the vehicle, and we heard several more at intervals throughout the night. Such solicitude for our safety ! Or were we just the most exciting item of interest they had had for weeks ?

I had got a bit of toothpick stuck in teeth and had an early night. Too many mosquitoes around. This site we called 'litter beach'.

Oct 12.

Search for dentist to extract toothpick was unsuccessful (another festival day apparently), but extraction was successful by Marion at lunchtime, using a pair of tweezers from Bo's comprehensive new penknife. We passed through Cartagena and heavy rainstorm in the hills beforehand. Then inland to Alhama. Stopped for lunch on a dry flat plain where it looked as if there had been no rain for weeks. The children had a good wash for a change. Many mauve coloured cabbage-like flowers around, olives, pines and young almond trees. Countryside looking like our expectations of Morocco with date palms and small dwellings with wells. Another heavy storm later. Heading now for Granada. Up 3000ft to a plateau where we camped at 'Thistle House'; scrubby barren rocky soil with 8ft high thistles in which Jennifer and Timothy devised a house to play in. Somehow they usually manage to make their surroundings into some sort of house on arrival in each new place. Home is wherever we stop ! Peter diligently writes his diary each evening. Had supper in a dry stream bed to shelter from the cold wind of these heights, although it was a sunny evening and a clear starry night. Coldest night so far. 152 miles.

Oct 13.

Heavy early morning rain stopped before our getting up time. But a cold damp breakfast. Spirits revived after setting off with the heater on in the ambulance for the first time, and being met by the glorious sight of fresh snow on the Sierra Nevada glistening in the sunshine. A morning tonic. And sun for the rest of the day.

Shopping stop in Guadix; somewhat lengthy due to the fascination of the town with goats being herded through the streets. Partook of elevenses in the main square in the form of 'churros', a long endless spiral doughnut that we found being made by the roadside; when bought it is cut into short lengths and sprinkled with sugar. The town contains many rock dwellings --- so does the surrounding countryside. We had lunch in an eroded landscape of rock towers and pinnacles. Stopped to inspect a village full of shops with pottery, brassware and straw fabrications spilling out into the road. Bought two straw donkeys (a birthday present for Ellen).

So to GRANADA. First impressions disappointing. An urban sprawl in a large plain on the edge of the hills. Expectations were of an old town surrounded by mountains. And we hit the rush hour. Battled our way through the centre and followed camp site signs which we thought would be the easiest way of finding somewhere within easy reach of the town. It was, but we felt a bit caged in under trees that effectively stopped the sun and any view of the mountains. Electric light, running water (but only after complaints about its lack) and lavatories were quite a change for us. We met there an interesting Australian couple doing Europe with three young children. The site was 'Camping Reina Isabel'.

Peter's view: "Granada where we got a bit muddled up and found a second rate camp site with no water. Daddy complained to the man about this...We saw snow on the Sierra Nevada," and a picture of this.

Oct 14.

Oh dear ! Let's hope this is our last official camp site. Car doors slamming till midnight, Swiss party returning at 2am and carrying on till 3, followed by the arrival of a new party. We hope they were disturbed by the wakening of the children at 6.30 with their usual morning songs; they appeared not to be. Conclusion: camp sites are not practical -- too many people want to do too many different things at too many different times.

So we were glad to leave at 9.30 to become real Granada tourists by visiting the ALHAMBRA. The Alhambra and the Generalife are the two palaces of note. Having time and intellectual capacity for only one of these, we opted for the Alhambra, the one wonder of Spain that one has heard of from earliest days. The car park for both is the same. So, due to a pathetic lack of signposting, we of course headed first for the Generalife. Very attractive gardens, but a long retracing of steps and a trek round the outside of the walls in order to find the entrance to the Alhambra itself. All efforts fully rewarded when we found ourselves eventually inside the Casa Real -- the Royal Palace. Our first experience of Moorish architecture. Rooms and courtyards of arches and columns, fountains, ponds and little streamways, carving and mosaics. Intriguing geometric designs and unexplained symbols, as nothing realistic is allowed to occur in Moorish art. Perhaps the lack of explanation made us all the more appreciative and interested in our own speculations; but we did attach ourselves once or twice to an American party with an English speaking guide.

Views from the windows over the old town far below were a frequent delight. The children enjoyed playing with stone lions and live goldfish in the ponds and no one got wet ! Peter mentions "the patio of the lions where daddy took a picture of timothy strockeing a lion's nose," and he has drawings of the lions propping up the fountain, and 'beautiful carvings'. Grotto-like niches with 'stalactite' ceilings were an impressing feature; the freedom to wander round without a guide makes all the difference to such a place; one's own fancy is often more pleasing than the guide's facts. Finishing after two hours with a walk along the ramparts and 'torres'. No one had flagged; a sign of the variety of interest.

We were then ready for a 2.30 lunch. A good spread of four courses including omelettes 'sacromonte' and ham and broad beans. This took a leisurely hour, and then a stroll round the back alleys of the town till 5 o'clock.

Finally away from the city for 20 miles on the road to Alhama, to find a campsite of our own choosing. All thankful to be on our own on a holm oak-dotted hillside near Agron with a distant view of the snow covered Sierra Nevada, and after dark the twinkling lights of Granada at a respectable distance. We called this place 'Pleasant Plateau'.

Does this mean that we will be a good desert party -- the desire to be free of restricting surroundings?

Oct 15.Sunday.

Rice Krispies and egg for breakfast in the warm sunshine as a change from the usual porridge and toast. Stayed late at campsite as it was an attractive place and a lovely morning. Start of a hot day. A very pleasant morning's drive along little used roads, over a dam with reservoir on one side and deep gorge on the other, hilly country for 30 miles. Then through a gap in the high rocky hills of the Sierra de Alhama to a dramatic 2000ft descent to the coast again at Torre del Mar, and finally along the main coast road until we could drive off it on to a sandy beach and hide ourselves (van included) behind a belt of bamboo. The descent from the hills was a good test of Bo's driving, being her first go on squiggly mountain roads. Much broken tarmac provided the worst road surface encountered so far.

Alhama de Granada was an interesting little town we passed earlier, and soon after we had a photographic stop by a herd of 250 goats of many colours and breeds, some Toggenburg, some Anglo-Nubian, some with tassels, some with horns -- a complete mixture. The goatherd was keen on being photographed. He demonstrated his sling, a plaited belt, with which he flung a stone to the far side of the herd to turn them back from straying. We saw oxen yoked to ploughs for the first time. Agricultural work is done by mules, horses, tractors and combines. Seed being sown by hand is quite a common sight. Having arrived at our beach at midday, we all immediately had a warm Mediterranean swim followed by lunch, and decided that this would be our home for at least two nights. The afternoon was spent relaxing in the shade of a bamboo shelter, and more swimming.

All this inspired another entry in Jennifer's somewhat intermittent diary: "today we are at the seaside and i have been in the sea twice today. It is sunny at the seaside." Peter, too, appreciated the sea: "It was nice floating around with the ring on... Daddy put up his tent down at the bottom of the beach where he could hear the waves" (but not the road, I might add), "but it seemed silly because the tent was so far away from the ambulance."

Our first seaside stop without the attentions of mosquitoes or 'guardia'. It must be admitted that the Costa del Sol does offer sun, sand and sea as advertised, but the miles of sand are uninterrupted by bays or rocks, so no interesting coastal scenery that we could find. Avoid in future.

Oct 16.

The day began with watching nets of whitebait being hauled in up our beach by hand. Rather a sparse catch but we were able to buy a few.

I spent most of the day in a garage in Velez Malaga, just inland from Torre del Mar getting the rear springs reinforced. Rather than fitting the new spring that we had with us in place of a weak one, they equalised all springs by using leaves from the new one to add to the others. This took all day of course but at least they willingly started immediately unlike any garage I can think of at home. I went back to camp by bus in the afternoon and had time for a swim in good waves, and a supper of whitebait, before returning to collect the now efficiently well-sprung vehicle. 1600 pesetas of work -- a mere 10 pounds. So we now have no spare spring, merely nine odd leaves. While driving 'home' again after dark, I managed to get the differential jammed on a concrete kerb while trying to turn. Had to jack up and drive off on planks. No damage.

Another refreshing swim before evening coffee.

Oct 17.

Morning rain. Used our awning attached to one side of the van for the first time, to make breakfast more enjoyable, and appreciated the space and comfort under it compared with eating inside the tent. Decided not to linger here any longer, so had a damp packing up and left about 10.30.

Main Costa del Sol road. Still shocked by the overdevelopment; feel we must warn everyone against thinking of holidays here. Torre del Mar itself is another of the urbanisations of which they seem to ne so proud: 'Visite la urbanizacion de...' say the posters. Difficult to get away from. Posters are not allowed to run riot as in Italy, but when they do occur tend to be huge erections on steel scaffolding. We have often been shouted at by the Michelin man for a good half mile before reaching him, and we can't help being aware of the flying horse of Pegaso trucks and the black bull of some drink or other. Road traffic police are also a common sight, usually in pairs on motorcycles, and not infrequently stopping vehicles with notebooks at the ready. We even saw one poor tractor driver being 'booked' on a deserted country road. We have been observing speed restrictions. No general restriction but often 40 or 30 km/h in villages. Peter very keen on makes of cars. SEAT are the only common Spanish ones. He is also counting buses and trams. Disused tramlines in many large towns but still some in use in Zaragoza and Valencia and a 'country' line alongside the road for a few miles outside Granada.

'British style' picnic lunch today; that is to say, sitting in the van in the rain. But at least it was in one of the few more scenic spots, a layby on a little cliff overlooking rocks and waves.

Malaga, Torremolinos, Estepona en route, and then our first sighting of Gibraltar before reaching Algeciras. Here we collected 'poste restante' letters from home. Peter got two, "one from school...The teacher is reading them a book called 'Africa Adventure' ," and "I hope you didn't freeze in the Pyrenees." We also found out ferry times across to Africa. Then on to Getares, a small village on the west side of the bay to camp on the beach looking across to Gibraltar. This great grey cloud-topped rock stretched out before us, but completely banned to us by the stupidity of the viciously controlled border. It came to life after dark with a display of thousands of lights shimmering over the water. A large liner made an impressive sight as it sailed away sparkling with lights just as the children were going to bed.

We had not been there more than ten minutes before we were once again visited by the 'guardia' but, as usual, very 'civil'. More rain after supper and lightning over Morocco.

Oct 18.

Sun again. A maintenance morning (while troops on the beach were having firing practice --towards Gibraltar). Fitted the front propshaft ready for four-wheel drive work. Noticed three more broken wheel studs; ordered more from Thompson Doxey (in Southport). At midday Bo and I went shopping in Algeciras while the others had school and a swim in large waves. We all had a walk along a cliff road to the lighthouse for our first sight of Africa -- Ceuta and the mountains. This is the most attractive and most rural bit of coast that we have seen so far. The country has more pasture and we saw almost our first Spanish cattle, some with wide spreading horns, with little white cattle egrets riding on their backs. Piles of cork lying around and the cork trees stripped of bark up to a height of ten feet or so. We saw what Marion thought was a skua diving into the sea, reappearing ten seconds later and flying off on long narrow wings. Not many flowers: a small yellow marigold, a sort of ragwort and a thorny bush with yellow tomato-like fruit.

Oct 19.

I leant on my glasses and broke the frames. So into Algeciras again with Marion to achieve a successful repair (40p -- 60 pesetas) Then I lost a 1000 peseta note; left in a shop, and remarkably recovered after retracing our route to locate it. We left our 'Gibraltar View' camp site at 12.30. Back into the town to the docks and cooked soup for lunch on a quayside in more heavy rain. Our hoped for 4.30 ferry was fully booked so we had to accept the 9.30. So we suddenly had masses of time to fill, and also masses of money, as we had been undercharged for the vehicle ferry ticket according to our previous erroneous information. So we bought new sandals for Jennifer, a yesterday's 'Daily Mail' and sticky cakes for tea. I made a petrol filler cover out of an old oil can as a deterrent to Moroccan thieves. Temperature today 22C.

Heavy rain, lightning and thunder for most of the afternoon. Street lights flashing uncontrollably. Later we all had a restaurant meal (fish, egg, chips, salad, bread and wine -- 60 pesetas each) before reporting at 8.30 for the ferry. Timothy nearly asleep by the time we finally set sail on the 'Isla de Menorca'. A dramatic crossing of the straits. Lightning flashes splendidly silhouetting Gibraltar and lighting up the sea all round, but no rain and warm enough to sit out on deck and watch the spectacle. Except Timothy. And Jennifer also asleep by the time we arrived .

Arrival at Ceuta at 11.30. And here we were in AFRICA -- at last (but still in Spain). We found our way up the road to Monte Hacho, and to a convenient if unconventional camp site on a shelf halfway up the cliff just below a layby beside the road with the beam from the lighthouse revolving slowly above us. Bed at midnight.

NEXT

Homepage l Europe l N Africa l Sahara l Nigeria l Central Africa l Hospital l Congo l Rwanda l East Africa